


It's a Bet

by Satan (CherryBones)



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - GTA, Blow Jobs, Fake AH Crew, I wrote a thing and it is lovely, M/M, at least I think so, god i love these nerds so much
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-17
Updated: 2015-09-17
Packaged: 2018-04-21 06:34:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4818800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CherryBones/pseuds/Satan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Geoff's a little stressed out. Michael's here to help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's a Bet

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mightbeanasshole](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mightbeanasshole/gifts).



Being the boss of a city-sprawling, semi-international crime organization wasn’t all fun and games, unfortunately. Geoff wasn’t entirely certain what he had technically counted as a ‘crime organization’, more of just a crew with a lot of connections and friends, but the point remained. There was a lot of planning, a lot of working out who did what and when, and that wasn’t even when there was a heist in the works. He couldn’t risk losing a single one of his friends, his family, and that required being twice as careful as any other crew would be. It was risky enough with all the extra variables of other gangs and unpredictable cops and stupid people trying to be heroes to try to throw other bullshit into the mix like a big deadly soup loaded with guns and cash and blood. Which is why, as much as it sucked, a good majority of any given week was spent hunched over the table that filled most of the heist room, reading over texts and emails and maps and any number of other things both electronic and paper. It usually required alcohol to manage to survive more than an hour or two at a time, especially when Jack wasn’t there to help out. Which she wasn’t. Which wasn’t her fault, he’d sent her out on a supply run with her Cargobob, but it still sucked. He was already through a good portion of a bottle of whiskey and wasn’t feeling any better about anything. His back hurt and there was no safe way to do the job he was pouring over, no way to ensure that, barring any unexpected changes of plan, everyone would get out mostly uninjured. It was too big of a risk and worse than that was that there was no way _not_ to do this job. They had to or they would risk some serious future problems with the idiots trying to encroach on their territory. He groaned and debated throwing the glass in his hand. It would probably help him deal, but long-term he would have to get up and clean up the shattered remains, which would distract him and probably wind up leaving him even more aggravated. He dropped it back on the table, glaring at the maps before him like they would suddenly rearrange into a solution. 

The door cracked open to his right. He didn’t bother looking up, too focused. There would have been a commotion if it was someone dangerous, what with three of the rest of the crew all sprawled out in the living room. He could hear them shouting at each other, muffled and full of laughter, as the door snapped closed again.

“Geoff? You okay?”

He let out a sound that was more aggravated groan than anything, slumping down into his chair without giving a worded answer, eyes shutting in favor of allowing him to rub at the headache threatening to come from behind them. There was a hum from that same space off to his right and then the shifting of fabric as they moved closer. Strong hands settled on his shoulders, rubbing out his stress with sure  powerful movements. 

“You should take a break. You’re not getting anything done just glaring at shit. Why not come hang out with us until Jack gets back?”

Another noise, disagreeing this time, not really in the mood to speak. A sigh, quiet and just a little testy as the hands focused in on a distinctly tough knot where his shoulder met his neck.

“How ‘bout if I suck your dick?”

That made him look up, maybe just a little in amused disbelief. Russet curls fell about the face that grinned back at him, hands still working away until the knots of stress gave.

“If I suck your dick, will you come hang out with the rest of us for a while?”

Geoff couldn’t help being a little bit of an ass.

“Doesn’t seem like much incentive for me to do anything if you do that.”

“You making it a bet, old man?”

“Maybe.”

“Fine then, if I get you to come in the next five minutes, you come out to the living room.”

“Fine.”

The grin broadened and Michael released his shoulders, immediately circling the chair. Geoff pushed back, giving him room to settle onto his knees. And he gave Michael credit, he didn’t waste any time, quickly popping open the button to his pants and working his hand in. He playfully felt him up through the fabric of his boxers, rubbing over the tip through the cotton and looking quite proud when Geoff let out a low groan, pushing his hips up against the sensation. But he was on a time crunch, and Michael Jones was _not_ one to lose a bet. Carefully pulling him free, he sat back for a second to admire him, already mostly hard form just his teasing. Then he shifted forward, planting his hands on Geoff’s hips and taking the sensitive head into his mouth. He laved over it, flicking his tongue into the slit and watching as Geoff shuddered, something that only increased when he added suction. Determined, he started working his way down, pulling back now and again for air or to tease him again, humming in glee at the way he could feel the crime lord’s hips tremble against his hands, pinned as they were to let Michael do all the work and take him apart, drag his stress from him through his cock, as ridiculous as it sounded. His hands clutched at the arms of the chair, knuckles white with determination. Michael grinned around him and pushed the rest of the way down, sighing softly as his dick hit his throat and slipped past, nose burying itself against his stomach.

“Shit _Michael...”_

And wasn’t that a wonderful sound? He hummed again and Geoff caved, burying his hands in Michael’s hair as he carefully started to bob his head again, working all his best tricks against the Gent. Curiosity struck and he looked up as best he could with his face buried in Geoff’s crotch. It was a difficult position but utterly worth it when he caught sight of his face, head thrown back as he shook with what Michael was doing to him. His hands tightened on his hips, keeping them in place. Maybe next time. Definitely next time.

Geoff was chanting his name like a prayer, shaking violently now as Michael moved in earnest, taking him almost completely out of his mouth and then all the way down with each bob, each little hum. On a movement back up he ran his tongue over the head again and that was the end of it, Geoff was coming by the time his cock hit the back of his throat again. He swallowed it with ease, remaining faithfully in place until Geoff was done, whining softly in oversensitivity as he pulled off, licking him clean and mouthing playfully over his thighs for a minute before letting go, sitting back on his haunches to grin up at him. His lips were red, cheeks flushed and chest heaving a little with exertion and Geoff couldn’t think of a more beautiful sight in the world. Bright amber eyes connected with his before flicking over to the clock on the wall and back, his broad grin just a little smug.

“Four minutes Geoff. I win.”

He couldn’t help but laugh, feeling loose and relaxed, at least for a little while. Michael shoved to his feet, batting at Geoff’s hand when he went to help him with his own straining erection.

“You can pay me back later old man. Right now you’re gonna come kick people in the dick in Saints Row with me.”

Geoff laughed and got to his feet as well. A bet was a bet.

“Who’re you calling old man?”

**Author's Note:**

> [Kelly](horrificsmut.tumblr.com) was having a bad day. I was determined to write a fluffy thing for them to brighten said day. It got smutty _damn_ fast.  
> 


End file.
